


Love Potion no. 9

by lunaseemoony



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballroom Dancing, Christmas, Crossover, F/M, Pining, Romance, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>It’s Christmas. Part of Hogwarts has traveled to the Palace of Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament and Yule Ball. As Potions professor John Smith sees it, he’s only got one cure for his love-struck heart, if he could only work up the courage.
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExcusemewhileIwagmytail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcusemewhileIwagmytail/gifts).



> For excusemewhileiwagmytail, one of my BOTM, who prompted me with a Nine/Rose HP AU at the Yule Ball. This first part was a scene I ended up deleting, but am rather attached to. So have it as a little extra nifty gifty. 
> 
> Also many thanks to my muse ktrose for her invaluable help. <3

“I’ll _not_  have it! She’s _how_  old? I’ve been teaching at this school for seventeen years and instead of giving me the post you’re going to appoint some little upstart? She looks like she’s barely past her NEWTS! This is an outrage headmistress!” 

McGonagall pulled her attention away from her parchment, set her quill down, sat back, and gazed up at the tantrum on two legs from above her spectacles. “Are you quite finished, Professor Yana?” 

Yana waggled the morning’s Daily Prophet in the air at her. It was open to the new professor’s face below the headline on the third page. “Well no hon-”

Standing up, McGonagall snatched the offending newspaper from Yana’s hand. John grinned from ear to ear while her attention was divided, swallowing back a laugh. She was immune to Yana’s thunderous outburst as always. 

“Are you _quite_  finished?” 

Feathers thoroughly ruffled, Yana chuffed and folded his arms very much like the child McGonagall was treating him as and nodded at her to continue. 

“Miss Tyler, now _Professor_  Tyler, came to us from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a glowing recommendation. She’s one of their best young aurors that we are fortunate to be able to have for however long she’ll stay. You will show her respect or I will show you the door, Professor Yana. I have no qualms with replacing a seasoned professor should he forget his place. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” he hissed before storming out the office. 

McGonagall turned her attention back to John. He rolled on his feet and wrapped his hands around his back, a polite but smug grin fixed to his face leftover from the spectacle. 

“Help her settle in, would you John? I know you’re busy with Ravenclaw but I haven’t had a chance to appoint a new head for my house just yet.”

John’s eyes fell to the open newspaper on McGonagall’s desk. His gaze was greeted with a sunny smile and an inviting wave sent right his way. McGonagall cleared her throat as the little newspaper Professor’s tongue sneaked between her teeth and winked at him. 

John looked up and beamed. “I’d _love_ to, of course!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
> It’s Christmas. Part of Hogwarts has traveled to the Palace of Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament and Yule Ball. As Potions professor John Smith sees it, he’s only got one cure for his love-struck heart, if he could only work up the courage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For excusemewhileiwagmytail one of my April BOTM who prompted me with a Nine/Rose HP AU at the Yule Ball. The song referenced in this fic can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1vbQEyGTpE), and I highly recommend giving it a listen because it fits perfectly.

The first two weeks at Hogwarts flew by quicker than autumn’s winds drifted in, as it had always. Only with this being a Triwizard Tournament year, everyone was flurrying about the castle preparing for the seventh years’ trip to the Palace of Beauxbatons in France for the term. John had every intention of following through with the headmistress’s request that he look in on professor Tyler. And he had some _beautifully_ good reasons to. But time wouldn’t allow for it. For the first two quick and yet tortuously long weeks his curiosity about the young Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would have to be sated with quick glances her way at meals. So he told himself.

It was more than a consolation, studying her smile brighter than the sun after a spring rain, and her giggle that made little crescents of her deep honey eyes. Hagrid, sweet as he was, started giving John a hard time inside of a few days for making moon eyes at her at the head table, no matter how much he denied it. On the first day of classes he spotted a slender, thick-pelted blonde wolf sauntering down a corridor with a pack of third years in tow. John later learned via students too busy nattering on about it in his own class that it was none other than professor Tyler. She commanded respect in the most unorthodox of ways; at least of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. His own house and the Slytherins were a much tougher sell as always. 

In truth it took John those two weeks to work up the courage to actually speak to professor Tyler. They weren’t without a few spare minutes after the students were in bed for the night. Even though he was holed up in his potions classroom for more hours than he’d care to be while getting the ball rolling in the new term he could’ve easily found his way to professor Tyler’s classroom, or tagged along on a trip to Hogsmeade to unwind. He was a bloody coward.

Finally on a quiet and balmy Saturday afternoon his sense of responsibility drove his cowardly legs up to professor Tyler’s classroom. Her door was flung open invitingly, and the most divine sounds could be heard wafting from its dim and dusty depths. John wasn’t the only one who’d taken notice. A cluster of Gryffindors studying sat at the bottom of the stairs slowly swaying to a gentle hymn plucked from the lungs of an angel. The juxtaposition of carefree sincerity in her song froze his feet in place on the staircase. As if her smile, raw talent, and beauty weren’t enough, of course she had to have a beautiful singing voice wandlessly charming his heart. She was singing one of Hogwarts’ older songs, one that was lost to the ever popular Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Miss Tyler breathed warmth and life into the resident ghosts’ hauntingly morose tune.

“Oh my!” 

Rose dropped her armful of books and began to fall off her ladder. John darted up to her, flying across the room to catch her. They both fell, but at least he broke her fall. That was when he realized her song had lured him into her room, the sneaky minx. Or so he told himself. 

When John caught his breath he opened his eyes to Miss Tyler laying on him, a curtain of golden locks tickling his face. She tucked some back and smiled sheepishly at him. 

“What were you on that ladder for? Could’ve saved yourself the trouble by levitating those books you know,” John asserted smugly beneath her. 

“I could say the same for you. You could’ve broken my fall easily with a spell. But you didn’t. Call it even?” she retorted playfully while scanning his face. 

Her gaze brought warmth to his face. Her eyes were the first sip of apple cider on a chilly day, conjuring the image of them sharing one the instant the chill swept over the Scottish Highlands Hogwarts was nestled in (which to his luck would be fairly soon). He heated up really quickly at the compromising position they found themselves in, legs tangled and hands clutching his shoulders as her weight pressed delightfully on his. 

“I think that’s fair...” he led on, coaxing her first name from her pink lips while they were so close. He knew it after reading The Daily Prophet’s article about her (three times, shamefully). But he yearned so much to hear it.

“Rose. Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose Tyler. John Smith. I’m the potions professor.”

“Nice to meet you John. Now if you don’t mind...”  

His hands were on her hips, trapping her atop him. Mortified, they flew up to release her as his whole body simmered. There were students right outside down the stairs! If McGonagall had found out she’d verbally tan his hide. He shuddered at the thought. Fortunately she was already in France with the seventh years a the tournament. But he’d seen one of her howlers first hand.

Rose got up, chuckling under her breath. “I was just tidying up this old place. So dark and dusty. I don’t think it’s seen a good cleaning since McGonagall herself was a student. Or Dumbledore. If even at all. With professors flying in and out it’s amazing it’s not in more disarray than it already is.”

“Settling in then, are we?” John prompted as he dusted his leather robes off and promptly began helping her with the fallen books. 

Rose breathed in a hum. “Not settling in, just helping, I suppose. If it hadn’t been for McGonagall I wouldn’t have passed my NEWTS or gotten into the Ministry’s auror program. I owe her a lot. My mum’s a muggle and it was just me and her. I wouldn’t be where I am without McGonagall’s help. Figured the least I could do is tidy up the place yeah?” 

They bent over at the same time and reached for the same book. When he let go their eyes met, and she offered him that cheeky smile that her newspaper doppelganger had captivated him with. “You’re beautiful,” he croaked. “I mean, your singing voice! It’s beautiful. For an auror.”

“Oh god you heard?” 

“You had an audience, yeah.”

Her face ripened. “I was in the choir when I was a student.”

“Still got it I hear,” he praised. 

She hid her hands (and an old book) behind her back, hips swaying a bit and tongue peeking between her teeth as she preened. “Thanks.”

They chatted while he helped her with her books and tidying up. The bells tolled dinner in the blink of an eye. If only time turners would allow him to experience it all over again. Or at least watch her smiles and face light up as she told him stories of her student days again. 

Rose was alive in a way that he’d never felt since the war. In the following weeks he shamelessly sought out any spare minute with Rose. He learned that she’d seen and felt as many horrors and loss as he had. Yet she thrived and drank in life like there was no tomorrow. As autumn set in properly and Scotland’s plants slowly died down, John never felt more alive than he did with Rose at his side. The weekends belonged to them. He couldn’t feel guilty about it when she’d come willingly strolling into his potions dungeon, sitting on one of his desks kicking her legs patiently as he worked. When he finished they’d find themselves wandering the grounds, Rose bundled up in her maroon and orange robes and scarf fending off autumn’s chill. 

He saw to it that they did share that apple cider in late October. Rose seemed so out of place in his relatively empty bedchambers. He practically lived in his dungeon, having more than once (okay, regularly) fallen asleep on his desk, which Rose chided him for upon finding out. She also commented that it was very _him_ , more books than clothes piled up on chairs; more potions and ingredients dotting his shelves than linens; more parchment and quills on his bed than pyjamas or blankets. That she knew him well enough to gather this touched him in places that had long since gone cold. 

It was ironic, John found, that rose thorns were a common ingredient in love potions. He had everything he needed in his stores. Professor Snape was quite the collector of the rarest potions ingredients and seldom used them even to teach. John had entirely too much at his disposal, been entrusted with more power than he’d ever be comfortable with. McGonagall knew of John’s dark past, and yet she trusted him enough to teach students and mind the potions inventory. Then again, she also trusted professor Yana. At any rate, brewing a love potion would be a simple matter for him. He could do it in his sleep. Every day he’d find himself in the ingredients cupboard climbing the rickety old ladder eyeing the Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, and moonstone longingly. 

But what he yearned for most was to not need to use it to earn Rose’s affections. He wanted her hand to find its way into hers all of her own volition. He wanted to earn every smile, every friendly word, every bit of trust, every _kiss_... Fine, he had it bad. Rose was every bit a Gryffindor as she ought to be, as brave and strong as a lion but with a soft heart. John began to wonder if it was _Rose_  that had used a love potion on _him_. Not seriously of course. He confessed to the full moon from his bedchambers in Ravenclaw tower that although it’d happened so quickly, he was in love with Rose Tyler. He shouldn’t have allowed himself. He didn’t deserve it. What would Rose think when she learned what John had done fighting Death Eaters in the war? 

John and Rose braved the cold on a Saturday afternoon early in November, perched shoulder to shoulder on a balcony outside The Three Broomsticks watching students happily gallivanting about Hogsmeade village, perfectly carefree and nothing more to worry about than shirking their homework. They had no idea how easy their lives were. But Rose did. She shared with John how her father died via the killing curse, and how her first few years as an auror were spent in the dregs of the wizarding war tracking down Death Eaters. Her life was scarred with deaths, but she didn’t let them mar her soul. Of course, she hadn’t been the cause of any of those deaths. Still, entrusting him with this information gave John the strength to tell Rose the truth. He could not in good conscience allow love to bud in his heart while Rose held a false image of him. 

And once he got started unveiling the truth to Rose, the rest came flooding out with it like a river after a storm. 

“You think that it’ll last forever, family and holidays at home, inviting friends over for dinner. But it won’t. One day it’s all gone. Even their wands. Gone.” He looked down at his own wand in its holster. It knew and protected all of his secrets until then as he revealed them to Rose. She looked at him properly now, undeserved concern growing on her frost-kissed cheeks. “My family’s gone. Dead. Their home burned. All that’s left is rocks and dust. Gone before their time.”

“What happened?” Rose asked. For a girl who’d seen as much as she had, innocence seemed to cloak her voice. 

“Same as you. The Death Eaters came. My family had something they wanted. This group was too green to cast the killing curse so they threatened us with fire. I called their bluff. They died and I barely got out. I ran, like a coward.”

“That’s not your fault though, John. You did your best.”

He shook his head. “It _was_ my fault. I should’ve thought it out better, fought harder, risked myself to save them instead. We lost. They lost. I lost most of all. I’m the last of my family, the only survivor. All alone. There’s no one else.”

She offered him the most heartfelt smile he’d seen yet and scooted her hand on the stone banister over to his, gloving his cold chapped skin in her pink mitten. John swallowed the stone in his throat and blinked away the tears glistening his eyes. He wanted so badly to deserve her tenderness.

“There’s me.”

Never had two simple words thawed his heart. Not since he lost his family, if even ever. The gravity of her sincerity and kindness pushed the tears from his eyes and fell to her mitten. She deserved better. 

“You’ve heard the truth.” He shook his head, determined more than ever while her hand was in his in this fleeting moment. “Do you want to stop seeing me?”

“I dunno. I want...” She paused, seriously considering his offer. But then she stopped and sniffed the air hard, breathing in the Inn’s lunch of the day. “Do you smell chips?” 

Right then, of all times? Relief coaxed a chuckle from throat. “Yeah.”

“I want chips,” she sighed. 

He beamed. Being honest, he wanted whatever she did in that moment, and every one that followed. “Me too.”

“Right then, before we round up these students, chips it is. And you can pay.”

He padded his pockets and shrugged. He was a forgetful git. “No money.” 

“What sort of date are you? Come on then tightwad, chips are me. Only got an hour til the shops close.” 

He hadn’t the foggiest idea what he’d done to earn one of her brightest, tongue-touched smiles, but he was so deeply grateful for her that he didn’t question it. 

Rose brought a joy back to John’s life that he’d thought long since lost to him. He shamelessly sought out her company in every free moment he had. It was to the point where he was quite certain the student body knew, or why else would gaggles of girls giggle at him in the hallways that never had before? He didn’t bloody care anyway. Every day that the sun rose and his love’s warmth graced his presence was a good one. With every hour spent at her side pouring over old books, helping her plan lessons, or simply curled up with her in front of his fireplace (one of the best evenings of his life to be honest), they were forging an inseparable bond. 

Or so he told himself. 

“The ministry’s calling me back after Christmas. I’m traveling with a squad to help the Brazilian Ministry with an upheaval they’ve got going on. Somebody else is taking my class in the spring,” Rose confessed with a wrinkled letter clutched in her trembling hand two weeks before Christmas. 

“How long will you be gone?” 

She pursed her lips and averted his gaze. “As long as it takes.”

John gritted his teeth. She’d ripped any further words right from his throat. He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak. His eyes glistened. When he finally did open his mouth nothing would come. He could only snatch the offending parchment from her hand and toss it into his fireplace for kindling. Was her heart pounding as fiercely as his was? He took both her hands and enveloped them in his before deciding to yank her into his arms properly. He drank in her snow-dampened hair and dropped a kiss on her crown. He pretended for as long as her head covered his heart and her warmth graced his arms that he could protect her from responsibility.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his now heartrendingly damp jumper. 

He swallowed his grief and dragged up some manhood. “What are you sorry for?” He brightened his tone. They both knew it was feigned but she sniffed, seeming to appreciate it. “What you do is so important, Rose. Defending the Earth! It’s fantastic. You shouldn’t be sorry for that.”

“I wish you could come with me.” 

He rubbed her back, wishing he could smooth away that lump in her voice like he could the knots in her muscles. His hips began to move of their own accord, seeking comfort in the gentle rhythm of their swaying. 

“You know I can’t. They wouldn’t want me. My only place is here, in my dungeon. Potions, that’s me. Saving the world is for you, Rose Tyler.” 

She shook her head against his chest. He could feel her frown before she looked up and showed him. “Not if it means I won’t get to see you for... I don’t even wanna think how long. And what about you?” 

He put on his best smile that she saw right through. “Same as always, I’ll keep teaching students about potions they’ll probably never use.”

“On your own?” 

“Well I’ve got TARDIS over there.” He nodded at his black and white cat perched in his window. 

“What are we gonna do?” 

That was the question indeed. John had two weeks to spend with Rose, and he wished he didn’t have to use them teaching the students. He could whisk her away for those two weeks, hiding in a little cottage high up in the mountains away from the Ministry that sought to yank his love from his arms. That is if he was brave enough. He hadn’t looked at those particular set of potions ingredients in weeks, not since he told Rose his secrets. But he sought comfort in them now. Maybe if she loved him enough she wouldn’t leave him. That was far more cowardly than anything he’d ever done, he decided. Rose deserved better. 

“So you’re just gonna mope around? God, John. She’s been miserable this past week! You two drive me mad, you know that?” professor Jones hissed at him at breakfast the week before Christmas. Rose sat a few professors down the table in between professors Noble and Flitwick, attempting to sculpt her oatmeal. 

“What do you want me to do? Write the ministry? Tell them they can’t take her away? I’m not that sort of man, professor Jones.”

She huffed and snatched his goblet of pumpkin juice right from his fingers, capturing his undivided attention. “Use what time you’ve got, John! You’ve got Christmas! The entire school’s headed to Beauxbatons for the Yule Ball and you’re moping about like a kicked puppy. Do something!” 

Professor Noble piped in from next to her and waved her fork at them, whispering. “She’s right dumbo. Now’s your chance!” 

“What?” Rose piped up. 

“Nothing!” Martha and Donna chorused, fake grins plastered to their faces. 

He spent the remainder of the day crafting a plan. It was simple, but the best he had. Rose deserved the stars on a platter. What he could give her wasn’t probably even second best. But it would be a memory to take with her to Brazil. The next morning at breakfast when the owl post arrived, one of the school owls dropped a tiny parcel next to her plate. Martha and Donna caught on quickly, whipping their heads his way with questions in their eyes. And he nodded.

Beneath the brown paper wrapping was a little white box that collapsed when Rose tugged at a blue and red ribbon. Inside the little white box were three little figurines, a wizard, a witch, and a violinist, all in winter dress robes. They moved when the box fell, first casting their heads upward to make certain Rose was looking, charmed like wizard’s chess pieces. When they had her attention the violinist began to play his tune, and the figures began to waltz around Rose’s plate. John’s heart throbbed fiercely in his ears while Rose watch, hand over her heart. 

The head table fell silent, all eyes fixed on the miniature dancers as they made their second lap around Rose’s plate. Normally breakfast was the noisiest meal, but the transfixed professors grabbed a few students’ heads too. A minute or so in, the violinist put down his violin and picked up the collapsed box, folding it to one flat side with the assistance of the dancers, and held it up for Rose to see. _Will you be my date to the Yule Ball? - John_  

Rose’s hand cupped her mouth as she looked over at John, lungs frozen in anticipation. She gave him a meek nod before leaping out of her seat and into his arms. A simple gesture couldn’t mean that much to her, he thought, doubting himself even as she breathed an exasperated laugh into his shoulder. She whispered she’d love to into his neck, sending hot tremors through his whole body, settling in his chest. He pecked her cheek, heart swelling with each beat. He close his eyes to drink in the feeling and engrave the memory into his mind. 

The best Christmas present he could receive would be a Pensieve to store all of their precious memories in. He decided right then to save up and purchase one, for every laugh, every hug, every book read together, every plate of chips surrendered, every song she sang when he wasn’t supposed to be paying attention. He didn’t trust himself, and Rose was too important for even a single memory to be lost to a potions ingredient or pointless fact. She was all that mattered. 

When the world began to invade their bubble clapping and cheering flooded his ears. Most of the Great Hall hadn’t paid them any mind. But the students in the front closest to the high table and most of professors had noticed, and were cheering for Rose and John. He hadn’t felt so mortified in his life. Rose’s chaste kiss that left his face flush with warmth and chest throbbing with glee was well worth it. 

Christmas rolled around all too quickly. On one hand, it might turn out to be one of the nicest nights of John’s life, but on the other hand Rose would be leaving the day after Christmas. They had Christmas Eve and Christmas day to make the most of. Recalling the devastation of the wizarding war had left them both feeling cautiously optimistic. But who knew when Rose would return, if she could manage to return to John safely? If Dumbledore himself couldn’t survive it, who could? The upheaval in Brazil was not unlike what they faced with the Death Eaters. 

Still, John promised himself he wouldn’t think of this. And fortunately he had plenty of work to distract himself with. Getting the students to the Palace of Beauxbatons proved to be a monumental task; all hands on deck. The students were elated to be able to leave the castle and spend Christmas away from their parents for once (at least of the ones that had permission), so they were even tougher to wrangle than normal. House points across the board plummeted before Christmas. 

It was so busy that on Christmas Eve John couldn’t seem to spot Rose as they herded Hogwarts’ students into the thestral-driven carriages. But he was certain she was there. He clutched his bag with his dress robes in it tightly to his chest. A lot was riding on that night. The future would be uncertain no matter what happened, but he had a goal in mind, and wouldn’t leave France before achieving it, he told himself. He still felt as though Rose deserved better than him, but he couldn’t help who his heart set its eyes on any more than a phoenix could help succumbing to the flame. 

When they arrived at the palace nestled deep in the Pyrenees mountains and floated through its bright gold and blue halls John still gave Rose the benefit of the doubt. Wrangling a bunch of teenagers and a herd of thestrals was no simple task. She was bound to be around. Somewhere. Maybe she was hiding for whatever reason. He was left to his own devices for a few minutes to get dressed, and for once relished in his heart galloping in his chest. He wore a full black and white tuxedo with a bowtie and navy cloak. It was a rental of course, far too fancy for his tastes. But for Rose? Only the best. Even if he did feel like a little boy invading his father’s closet. 

John proceeded into the academy’s Great Hall alone, and sat down beneath a unicorn ice sculpture alone. He ate alone, watched the champions dance alone. He waited patiently, scanning the entire hall as he roamed aimlessly alone. A couple hours into the Christmas Eve festivities the wood nymphs stopped giggling at his solitude and began to shadow him, singing gloomy songs to him while the Weird Sisters played their upbeat holiday tunes on the gilded stage. He’d gathered himself a little posse of lonely Beauxbatons and Hogwarts students with a couple of Durmstrang ladies speckling the group. Instead of comforting them and showing solidarity, they took pity on him and promised him that his date would show. 

Would she though? Was it easier for Rose to say goodbye without the dance? John wouldn’t blame her. He wanted to show Rose a good time before she left. But he never asked if she’d felt the same way. Maybe her enthusiasm two weeks prior was feigned for his sake. Maybe she was attempting to save him some heartache. Except that watching spent and giddy students slowly filtering out of the shining palatial hall was no salve for his heart or his pride. And Rose would’ve told him. John wasn’t the best at talking, admittedly, but Rose told him everything. It might’ve been easier for her, but this wasn’t how he’d wanted to say goodbye. 

No matter at the end of the day. Even John’s moral support and cluster of wood nymphs gave up while the house elves began to clean up for the night. He wasn’t embarrassed. What was pride for a lonely potions professor with little to his name but his skills and the clothes on his back? Still, John’s blossoming trust in Rose instilled a bit of hope deep in his chest, and he paid the Weird Sisters five galleons to hold on for another half hour, just in case Rose might show. Even the moon began its descent twenty-five minutes later, and John didn’t blame it at all. 

“Look mate, really sorry but we’ve got a gig in the mornin’,” the guitarist said as he began to pack up. 

“Still a few minutes, could you just -”

The doors flew open with a bang, startling the slumbering wood nymphs sleeping in the golden window sills. A woman came stumbling in, chest heaving like a bellows stoking the fires of her flaming red dress. John rushed up to catch her in his arms. Before he even looked he recognized the scent on her hair, freshly fallen snow mixed with jasmine perfume, as well as an earthy smoke. His hopes all but dashed, John refused to believe his own senses until the woman righted herself and dusted herself off, letting his Rose swim into view.

“Rose.” 

Her lip quivered before she spoke. Her eyes began to water. “John, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” She swallowed hard and gasped, but it didn’t stop the tears from flowing. He felt them along with her, right in his throat where a knot grew. “I got an owl last night from the ministry for an emergency and when I got back this morning everyone was already gone and I couldn’t find the backup portkey to get here so even though they told me I might as well head to Brazil with the squad I asked them for today and tomorrow like they promised me and I grabbed a broom and flew but it was cold and snowing so I know I look... and my dress...”

John pulled Rose into a hug before she could finish blurting it all out and crumple beneath the weight of it, hushing her so she could breathe. Her chest seized and she struggled for air against his chest for a few moments, hyperventilating. He looked in the direction of the band and mouthed a thank you when they stopped packing up their instruments, and rubbed soothing circles on Rose’s back, begging her not to cry. 

“I look awful,” Rose stammered when he pulled her head up to look at her, rubbing away the tears staining her cold cheeks. 

“Rose Tyler, even on your absolutely worst day, which I’m certain is quite far from this one, you look absolutely beautiful.”

“For an auror.”

He shook his head. “For anyone.” 

She hugged herself, and he rubbed her arms to warm her. Her dress was torn in places and her hair was a few steps past windswept. But he wasn’t lying. Rose was the most beautiful creature he’d laid eyes on and nobody would convince him otherwise; least of all Rose Tyler herself. She sniffed two deep breaths and smiled, and suddenly hope began to spring within him again. He caressed her face, combing back her dewy blonde hair. 

“Doesn’t matter anyway. We’re too late.” She shrugged her shoulders, closing herself off as though she’d only just realized the hall was empty but for the band, the wood nymphs, and the house elves who were quickly making themselves scarce now that she’d arrived. 

“Nonsense love,” the guitarist insisted. The rest of his band nodded. In the presence of a lady their entire demeanor changed, as though their next engagement had suddenly cancelled. “Just in time for one more I think, eh boys?”

“You don’t have to, really, thanks,” Rose told the polished floor. 

“Oh but we’ve got just the one for a pair of lovebirds, ain’t we boys?” 

The others nodded and gestured at the dance floor. Cheered on by the suddenly chipper wood nymphs perched in the window sills, John led Rose onto the empty dance floor and waved his wand with whispered “lumos” to relight the candles.

The band picked up their instruments and started to play just as Rose and John were getting into position. The wood nymphs volunteered backup. 

 

_This one's going out to all the lovers out there._

_Hold each other tight, and keep each other warm._

_And dance your final dance_

 

John let his hand fall to Rose’s back and moved to grab her hand, but she wrapped her arms about his neck. He was more than okay with this, and rested both hands on her waist. The moon shone a bright spotlight on the dance floor as John tested out a few first steps. She didn’t tease him this time as she had when they practiced two weeks prior. She simply rested her head on his chest and followed his lead. 

 

 _This is your final chance_  
_To hold the one you love_  
_You know you've waited long enough_

 

“It’s Christmas John,” Rose whispered as they swayed to and fro. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Rose,” John beamed. 

All the tears were gone from Rose’s eyes but she shivered in his arms. He conjured an image in his mind of her flying across the English channel in the blustering winter air on her broom. Had she even been wearing a cloak? He wrapped his arms around her that much tighter upon realizing she’d done it for him, _him_  of all people. He loved her with all his heart but never asked her to return it. She’d given him so much already, more than he could ever convey with a dance, with the Christmas gift awaiting her in his guest room, or even with the words he’d brought her here to tell her. 

 

 _So, believe_  
_That magic works_  
_Don't be afraid_  
_Of being hurt_  
_Don't let this magic die_  
_The answer's there_  
_Oh, just look in her eyes_

 

“You came all this way for me,” he stated, bewildered. They were the wrong words, and he felt a pressure to utter the right ones before the last verse. But he was working his way up to them. So he told himself. 

“You waited for me.”

He wanted to swim in her eyes simmering with warmth forever, and it wasn’t an exaggeration at all. It didn’t matter that she was shivering from the cold, probably freezing. Her eyes were always bright and warm, as inviting him to nestle right in her heart (the one place he could admit he wanted to be). 

“I’ll always wait for you, Rose.” 

 

 _And make your final move_  
_Don't be scared, she wants you to_  
_Yeah, it's hard, you must be brave_  
_Don't let this moment slip away_

 

“Is that a promise?” 

She paused for a moment. They weren’t just lost in the overwhelming pounding of their hearts in elation. She was seriously asking. 

“’Cause I don’t know when I can come back. It could be... it could be a long while. I dunno.” her chest heaved. But she schooled her breaths and shut her eyes for a moment. “It’s only been a few months, you and me, but I wanna come back and find you here. At Hogwarts.” 

Where would he even go? She knew his penchant for wandering even as he thought this. Now it felt like running away when she wasn’t at his side. Time had no bearing on what had taken root in their hearts. Or his heart. He hoped to say the same for her. He hoped maybe she might tell him, if he was stupidly lucky. There was only one way to find out. 

“I’ll be here. I’ll wait, if you promise me you’ll stay safe and come back to me. I can’t lose you, Rose.” 

 

 _Now, believe_  
_That magic works_  
_Don't be afraid_  
_Afraid of being hurt_  
_Don't let this magic die_  
_The answer's there_  
_Yeah, just look in her eyes_

 

He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered his heart’s words. “I’m in love with you Rose Tyler. I love you.” 

Their kiss tasted of snow and the salt of fresh tears. She breathed deep onto his lips and smiled into second one. He couldn’t be certain if she was crying or laughing or some fatigue-wrought combination of the two. But when she whispered back the only three words he ever needed to hear he figured it didn’t matter. John beamed and twirled Rose around. The rest of the song faded into the background as they gave way to one of their own, the silent one sung with eyes glimmering in the winter moonlight and smiles bursting forth like spring’s first blooms months early. 

“You love me?” she prompted, her shamelessly mischievous smile spread on her pink face. 

How many times would he be able to tell her before she had to leave on the 26th? As many as his lungs would allow, he thought in jest. “I do love you. So much.” 

“Awwww!” 

The song had ended but they were still making small circles about the dance floor, apparently to an audience gathered at the entrance to the Great Hall. A collection of students from all three schools stood crouched, hidden in plain sight, squealing at them. 

John whipped around and pulled out his wand. “I don’t care if it’s Christmas Eve I can deduct -”

Rose lowered his arm and smiled. “Aww but look at them John. They’re all getting along so nicely. Isn’t that the whole point of the Triwizard Tournament?”

“It’s spying!” 

She petted his chest and giggled. “They’re witnesses. To keep us honest.” He opened his mouth but she put a finger to his lips. “I just wanted to see you the one time before I left. I couldn’t care less about a giggling bunch of teenagers, John. Maybe seeing what true love looks like will inspire them.” 

It was difficult to argue with her on a normal day. She brought up a good point.

“Maybe, but it’s still well past curfew and they have no business here any longer,” a familiar old voice chided. McGonagall stood in front of the group of students and began herding them out of the Great Hall. “Now shoo! The whole lot of you, to bed!” 

“Congratulations professors!” they hollered while the headmistress chased them away, like a border collie after a herd of sheep.  

When the Great Hall was relatively empty once again, John’s shoulders sank, and Rose rubbed them. 

“I’ve got a gift for you up in my guest room,” John told her. 

“I forgot yours back at the castle...” 

He lifted her chin and brought her lips to his. That would never get old, tasting the sweetness and warmth on them. “You’re a gift,” he told her when they came up for air. Probably the cheesiest line he’d pull all night, but it made her laugh; well worth it. 

He sneaked her down dark hallways and up staircases because he didn’t know what Beauxbaton’s rules about professors mingling in rooms were. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t bloody care. He shut the door behind him, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it open before the sun rose, because this night belonged to them. They deserved it. Rose deserved it, and everything he could offer her, in the few precious, priceless hours that would pass between then and the day after Christmas. 

Awaiting Rose in his room were a pair of very grumpy Snowy Owls, as far as he knew the only species of owl that could cross oceans. Rose confessed that she’d gotten John jim jams to encourage him to actually sleep in his bed, complaining that her gift for him paled in comparison to his. But it was a gift for the both of them. Come the day after Christmas neither of them knew when they’d see each other again. But being able to write Rose was worth far more than the sum of galleons he paid for the owls. He bought two knowing repeatedly crossing the ocean would wear the poor creatures out. 

But while she was nestled in his arms under the covers of the bed late that night she also pointed out to John that when Rose’s work for the Brazilian ministry was through, like them, the two owls would be reunited for good. It was a notion that John began to carry with him as a talisman of strength. When they parted ways they each took an owl with them, trading them with their letters. John took his with him to Diagon Alley over the winter break to Eelyops Owl Emporium to buy one big cage for the pair of them when Rose returned. 

So then like the cage, his heart after that Christmas wasn’t ever empty anymore, merely half full with the promise of being filled completely again someday. 


	3. Pensieve for Your Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
> Two months following Rose Tyler leaving Hogwarts, Professor John Smith’s colleagues are feeling how much he misses her acutely; none more so than Hagrid, who feels a sort of kinship to John. But what can they do to help ease his pain? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a [mostly angsty] ficlet following part 2 of Love Potion no. 9. I’ve been organizing my fic page lately, and this idea popped in my head so I wrote it. I’m issuing a tissue warning for this.

Hagrid never once forgot that a large part of what made Hogwarts home was the people inhabiting it most months of the year. He’d always managed to keep himself busy in the summers when his heart was half full and the castle markedly empty because he knew they’d be filled again come the start of the new term each year. While there was no lack of tasks to busy himself with following the great battle, certain parts of his home weren’t like the many chinks in the castle walls that could be filled with more stones. People were as much his home as the building itself, and they were irreplaceable. Hagrid’s life had been peppered with loss, and he always moved on. He had a large family now that he was eternally grateful for. 

But who did John Smith have? He’d had Professor Rose Tyler. Forget that she was a talented auror. Rose was sweeter than anything in Honeydukes, and a kinder soul hadn’t graced Hogwarts’ halls since the late Lily Potter. That was what mattered. Everyone felt the sudden lack of her warm presence acutely following New Years. But for a man who’d lost everything, Rose was apparently all the home that John had. Once she left for Brazil to aid their Ministry of Magic, John had taken a turn Hagrid hadn’t seen on someone since the end of the great battle. He started ghosting about Hogwarts’ halls in a manner that no living creature ought to be able to. Even the most sullen of ghosts were livelier than John became. 

He wasn’t any better come the start of the next term either. He livened up for the sake of his students. The fires of his solitude-built anger had died down to a simmer in Rose’s presence, but they grew to proper icy cold flames that would still burn those getting too close after she left. The faculty at Hogwarts were no strangers to this behavior. They’d sorely missed that brand of cold anger following the loss of Professor Snape. Some time after Professor McGonagall hired John, Hagrid found out that he had a troubled past. Of course that made him fit right in, Hagrid thought warmly. But Rose made him better. Rose softened his rough edges. Rose made him smile genuinely and not just for his snarky remarks. Real proper smiles. 

Hagrid remembered tales of days long past at Hogwarts when professors would pair off and love was in the air. Sir Nicholas told him once that at one time his Charms professor and Herbology professor (yes at one point old Nick was a student, hard as that was to believe) taught their classes with their daughter on their hips. There’d been a wedding on the grounds once, before his time. Occurrences like these were much rarer following the wars. Seeing love blossoming before their eyes was more than a salve for the other professors’ hearts. It’d been ripped off far too soon. 

John and Rose reminded Hagrid of a thestral and a unicorn. Though they were both gentle creatures the world viewed them as opposites, and darkness touched them in different ways. One was purer than a blanket of fresh snow on Christmas morning and the other darker than a storm cloud at midnight. At they same time if they weren’t different species they would actually be a perfect match, one with an untainted and pure heart, the other with an unshakable sort of loyalty and perfect sense of direction. In most ways they were still opposites. But unlike thestrals and unicorns, John and Rose just seemed to belong next to one another. Separating them seemed like a crime.

John wasn’t completely alone. His feline familiar, TARDIS, had taken to accompanying him wherever he went. Luckily both Professors McGonagall and Yana were still in France with the seventh years at the Triwizard tournament, otherwise they would have something to say about a cat sitting at the head table at meals. TARDIS became his second shadow. Like other half-Kneazles, she was more than clever enough to work out when her presence was needed, sod whoever had a problem with it. She made her opinion on the matter apparent to anyone that challenged it. 

“You worried about him too?” 

Hagrid jumped and roared a gasp. He was standing outside the Great Hall on a brisk February morning having just watched John slink inside for breakfast with TARDIS at his heels. History of Magic professor Donna Noble had sidled up next to Hagrid. She briefly rested her head on his arm and sighed as they watched John slump into his chair at the head table. A moment later Herbology professor Martha Jones was at her side with a similarly sympathetic expression weighing her down. 

“I can’t stand to see him like this,” Martha sighed. 

“We’ve got to do something, Hagrid.”

“Do what exactly, fly Rose back? Only way I can see of fixin’ him,” Hagrid retorted as students filed into the hall in front of them, politely offering the morning greetings along the way. 

Donna folded her arms and huffed. “Or send _him_  to _her_. I’m not picky.”

“McGonagall already said they only want aurors. Minimize the loss of life, they said.” Martha grimaced like the words were sour on her tongue. “It’s some illuminati group rising up down there trying to take over their Ministry. They don’t call themselves Death Eaters but they’re just as dangerous. John said that’s what Rose wrote in her letter.”

“Well they need healers yeah? John could do that,” Donna appealed.

“McGonagall tried on his behalf. They said no. She wouldn’t say why,” Martha sighed. 

Hagrid swallowed the stone in his throat. Loss of life. “Now none of that talk. I won’t have it. I won’t.” 

“Oh you know what, he keeps eyeing that penseive for sale over in town,” Donna mused. 

“Cost a small fortune, those things,” Hagrid noted. 

“Which is stupid. Any lummox with the time can make a stone basin and enchant it. It’s those stupid gems and runes they charge all the galleons for.”

“The runes and gems are part of the enchantment, Donna,” Martha noted. 

Donna’s brows knit together. “Why’s he want one anyway? Hogwarts has got one he could use.”

“One for his memories with _her_ , I reckon. He’s a good professor, good man. Rose would want us lookin’ after him, eh?”

“She would, yeah,” Donna and Martha chorused.

“The Ministry doesn’t pay professors much these days but if we talked to the others and scraped our money together I think we could manage it, don’t you, Hagrid?” Martha proposed. 

“I think we should certainly try!” Hagrid agreed with a broad grin, a plan putting him at ease. 


	4. Letters to John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead - sorry! ♥

_ 14th February 2007 _

_ Dear John,  _

 

_ Did you know it gets cold in Brazil? Well neither did I. I’m prepared for anything but snow in South America? I should’ve done more looking into it before we left like you told me to. Figured it’d all be wands blazing and running about.  It’s been more investigating and rounding up informants and infiltrating. My superior keeps telling me snowy owls are too conspicuous but I tell him I don’t bloody care. I don’t, John. Told him I’d hop on my broom and take it clear across the ocean if I had to. He didn’t believe me. That’d be nutters. But I thought about it.  _

 

_ I miss you.  _

 

_ I’m writing this on Valentine’s Day because Theta’s (I hope it’s okay I named him after you? Saw your middle name on some parchment once…) timing sucks. Not his fault. Bless these creatures for making these journeys for us. Promise me you spoil them? Because I do. Rotten. We’re around muggles half the time so it’s not like I can pop into an owlery and grab some rodents for them. Got to catch my own.  _

 

_ Speaking of which. When I come back to you I’m bringing a cat with me. I named her Sarah Jane, and she’s brilliant. Smartest cat I’ve ever seen. I rescued her from a right nasty storm when a falling branch got her paw. Since then she’s been following me and I guess she’s here to stay. She keeps me company. I’ll send you a picture of her when I can. Think she’d get along with your TARDIS? She’s gorgeous and keeps our encampments free of rodents (which Theta and Arkytior then get when they arrive). Rather handy, she is. We could spell the rodents away but we’re trying to not draw attention to ourselves. Seriously it’s driving me mad.  _

 

_ Take care of yourself for me, yeah?  _

 

_ Love, Rose  _

  
  
  


_ 7th March 2007 _

_ Dear John,  _

 

_ I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to write. I’m not allowed to tell you much in the off chance this letter finds itself in the wrong hands. I trust you but my colleagues don’t know who we can trust. I don’t blame them. Our work here so far has us believing this illuminati group has its roots with the Death Eaters in England. That’s all I can say. For reasons we’ve had to move to Peru. Poor Arkytior got lost I think, trying to find me. Bless. I felt awful. And then once she reached me I didn’t want to send her back out until we were stationary. I wish I could tell you where we are, John. I promise I’ll tell you everything when we’re together again. My superior aurors can sod off if they don’t like it then.  _

 

_ Thank you for the little collar and toys for Sarah Jane, she loves them. Well. She loves the toys. Not so much the collar. Reckon I belong to her more than she does to anyone else. She humors me but she doesn’t like it.  _

 

_ That’s me and her in the picture! Isn’t she gorgeous John? Oh, and I got the poncho from a local witch I stayed with for a couple nights when I got lost. (Long story, tell you later.)  Alpaca wool is so comfy. She got me started knitting you a jumper. I hope it fits. I hope it winds up looking like a jumper. You better wear it if it fits! I’m going spare here without you so when it’s not busy that’s what I do, knit this jumper. It’s blue, like your eyes. God I hope it doesn’t look a little kid made it. And don’t you roll your eyes at this either. Don’t you dare.  _

 

_ Love, Rose _

  
  
  


_ 19th April 2007 _

_ Dear John,  _

 

_ I started out writing you every day and just sending clusters of letters with the owls. But then there were days where I couldn’t get parchment or we couldn’t stop or it was dangerous. Now I’m barely managing one a week. And god you must think the worst of me not writing in a month. I can’t tell you what’s going on but if it’d help I really really wish I could.  _

 

_ Sarah Jane’s fine. We’re all fine. For the moment. It’s still cold as balls here just so you know. I miss you. Please tell me everything that’s going on there. Just give me everything, all the stupid details. What you’re eating, the weather, how your classes are going. Tell me about your difficult students. Everything. I know you hate writing these letters and you never know what to say but please I could use them. You’re my tie to home. You ARE home.  _

 

_ I heard we’re third place in the Triwizard Tournament at the moment. One of the other aurors has got a seventh year daughter and she sends him updates. Sounds funny but I think for the sake of diplomacy it wouldn’t be so bad if Durmstrang does win this one, don’t you think?  _

 

_ Love, Rose  _

  
  


_ 27th May 2007,  _

_ Dear John,  _

 

_ I’m sorry if Theta snaps at you when he arrives. As you can probably see I’ve sent quite a few letters. One for every day since I’ve been bad about that. That and this will be my last letter for a while. Maybe until I get back. I don’t know. Fuck my superiors they can fire me if they like. They don’t even want me telling you why. This is as much as I can say. I’m going deep undercover. As… as deep as it goes. It’ll be really dangerous. I can’t have any owls with me because that’d mean I could give myself away. Fortunately nobody much cares about cats so Sarah Jane will be safe. That and honestly I think she’d scratch anybody’s face off.  _

 

_ Anyway. I wish you were here. I’m not scared. I can handle anything. That’s why I’m an auror you know. I’m not afraid. I can deal with this and return no problem. After being with you though it just seems wrong that you’re not next to me.  _

 

_ Just promise me you’ll be happy. For me, if not for yourself. I know we promised the owls would only be together when we are but I’ve got no choice. Give them lots of love and hugs for me.  _

 

_ I love you John ♥ _

_ Rose _


End file.
